Harry Potter, Scourge of Spammers
by Enchantaskip
Summary: Only Hermoine can save Harry from Azkeban when his rage at spammers boils over.


Harry Potter-Scourge of SPAM

Court 19 ¼ in the Old Bailey is barely accessible to the non-wizard fraternity. A nondescript door of battered mahogany can be found in a gloomy corner under a staircase, marked by a tarnished brass plaque indicating.

"Department of Health

Wig Delousing and Cleaning Unit

Judges and Senior Counsel Only."

A uniformed usher led a pair of dark suited, short haired, brief case bearing individuals to the door, looked around, knocked twice and led them through.

Inside was a vast courtroom, ill-lit by high dusty windows.

A dozen individuals in wizard robes sat in a jury box, and a handful of representatives each from defence and prosecution sat at either side of the room, poring over parchments and speaking quietly.

The public gallery held a smattering of retired wizards, passing the time until the bookmaker's shop and the local pub should reopen their doors. The press gallery held a solitary bored figure, Rita Skeeter, enduring a sentence of six months as court reporter for her latest journalistic offence, an article implying an inappropriate degree of affection between a leading politician and his pet griffon, an implication that had cost the "Daily Prophet" in excess of half a million galleons in damages and costs.

She already had half her tabloid article written;

"Potter Internet Rampage. Controversial wizard …"

The prosecution welcomed the two new arrivals, who were clutching their briefcases close as they looked on the court and it's contents with apprehension.

The tall elderly barrister with what appeared to be a dead poodle on his head greeted them.

"Welcome to London. I am Sir Cyril Blackstaff, Queen's Counsel. This is my junior, Evans."

The junior, seventy-five years old if he was a day, and from his purple nose not one to let the port decanter pass him by at dinner, nodded a welcome.

"Evans, there are our associates from the United States, Clint Warren and Bruce Mayhem. The US government sees this as being a very serious assault on the right to freedom of speech, and is looking to achieve the most stringent sentence possible."

Mayhem, the older of the two, nodded, "Yes sir, we want to see this guy Potter hang."

His colleague took his elbow and whispered urgently in his ear. He drew back, a shocked expression on his face. "No death penalty? What kind of a country is this?"

Blackstaff snorted and smiled an evil smile, "Do not worry, Judge Gibbet always likes to take a severe line with these young thugs."  
Suddenly the bailiff stood up, cleared his throat and called, "Bring in the prisoner."

From somewhere underneath came the slam of a door opening, and the sound of chains clinking as the prisoner made his way up the steep staircase from the cells below. Finally he appeared in the dock, a young man with a scarred forehead, flanked by a pair of quiet individuals in blue uniforms. As he mounted the dock his chain caught in something and he half tripped, to be caught clumsily by the guard at his right. He swore something quietly at the guard who recoiled, his face shocked.

Evans scowled at them, "These new bloody warders are a waste of time, we need the Dementors back. They knew how to treat young thugs like that."

"That may prove a little difficult, my dear colleague. The ones the Aurors caught have all been turned, I am assured, into compost, and the few who are hiding out with the Death-Eaters are no longer available for employment."

"Still, it's a damn pity, Blackstaff. I hear they have poetry groups, dance therapy and art classes in Azkaban now."

"What, no snake pit, no scorpion barrel, no fingernails-scraping on blackboard room, no Barry Manilow On Speakers chamber?"

"Oh, they still have those."

The bailiff was standing, "All rise for his Lordship Justice Gibbet."

An emaciated creature with a narrow face not unlike that of a turkey entered through a small door at the back of the courtroom and sat heavily in his throne-like chair, looked at this notes and nodded to the bailiff.

"The case of Her Majesty's Communications Regulator, The Internet Direct Marketing Association, and The United States Department of Commerce versus Harry Potter is now open."

Blackstaff rose, "M'Lud, gentlemen and ladies of the jury, " he nodded at the jury box. A crone with an eye patch and one evil gleaming yellow eye met his glance and caused him to step back and lose his place for a long moment. He shivered, drew a long breath and started again.

"Er.. I will prove to you that this Mr. Potter, a trained wizard with some degree of notoriety in the wizarding community, did on or about the 25th day of February this year employ his not inconsiderable wizardly skills, not only to disrupt a reputable industry and cause substantial financial losses to them, but to cause severe financial and even actual bodily harm to a large number of their members."

He sat down and the judge turned to the young woman who was leading the defence team.

"Miss Grainger, how does your client plead?"

She turned red, straightened her wig and stood, knocking her briefcase to the floor as she did, "My Lord, we do not dispute the facts in this case, but we will prove, not only that our client acted under the most severe provocation, but that in doing so he was performing a valuable service to the muggle public. It is our view that the constant barrage of unwanted messages from these people constitutes an assault, wasting one's time and often offering illegal services."

The judge sighed, "I see."

He rummaged in his notes, took his glasses off and put them back on, and fixed her with a glare, "Before we begin, can someone explain to me what an Internet is?"

There was a faint groan from end of the prosecution bench where the two American counsel sat, hurriedly suppressed when Gibbet's gaze was turned on them.

"Kindly inform your colonial associates that this is a court of law, not one of their vaudeville shows."

"Very well, my lord." He shot a dark look at Mayhem who squirmed in his seat.

" I will call my first witness to the stand, an acknowledged Internet expert."

The witness took his seat.

"Bailiff, bring a Bible to the witness."  
The bailiff obeyed, then fetched a second. With both of the tomes on his seat, the gnome finally was able to see over the edge of the witness box.

The prosecutor rose. "Tell me, Chomsky, what is an internet?"  
"Your honour, there is only one Internet. It is a world wide communications network for computers."  
The judge furrowed his brow, "Computers, eh? Those calculating machines muggles use to do their sums."

"Actually, My Lord, they have become more than mere calculators. Muggles use them for watching moving pictures, listening to music, buying and selling, and also for sending messages, which is where the criminal offences arose."

"Messages? Messages? Have muggles got no owls, for pity's sake?"

"Apparently not, my Lord."

"I thought this Potter was a trained wizard. What does he want with playing about with calculating machines. Miss Grainger? How much time would he spend on a computer in a an average day?"  
She consulted her notes and reddened, "Seven hours."

"Seven hours? Good gracious. How much business can one conduct in such a way? How much music and moving pictures can one consume? What does the boy do all day with his um, computer."

She murmured something.

"I am sorry, Miss Grainger, the entire court needs to hear what you are saying."  
"My Lord, I believe that Mr. Potter devotes much of his time to examining pictures of young muggle ladies who are often largely or fully unclothed. I am informed that these are easily available to computer users."

"Good God, is that true?"

"I am afraid so."

The judge stroked his chin.

"I think we need to adjourn until ten tomorrow while I research the background to this case. You, dwarf, take one of those computers to my chambers immediately."

When court resumed the following morning it was apparent that the judge was carrying a laptop in his briefcase and, despite his looking as if he had not had much sleep, he seemed to be grinning more than was his wont. He opened the proceedings and faced the defendant.

"So this little thug here was using this Internet to send rude messages? A truly dreadful offence, and I shall have to take a hard line. What is it now, Blackstaff? "

"Actually, on the contrary, the defendant was interfering in the legal transmission of messages, and thereby affecting the right of the citizen to freedom of expression. Mr. Chomsky, explain what Potter did to our clients."

The jury craned forward in their box, watching the red hat bob up and down as the expert explained, "My employers use the Internet to advise the public whenever there are goods on offer at bargain prices or whenever valuable investment opportunities arise, which I am sure you will agree is a public service."

The judge nodded, "I have to say I have received three pieces of mail to my new account that were unsolicited. However, the benefits of these computers are such that the slight irritation of such messages should be not unbearable to a reasonable man."

Chomsky resumed the witness box and grinned a conspiratorial grin at the judge, who winked. Hermione caught a triumphant gleam in Blackstaff's eye and resisted an overwhelming desire to bash her head on her desk.

There was an interruption as an owl swooped through the open owl vent close to the ceiling and dropped an envelope on the judge's bench. He opened it, wrote a brief message on the bottom, and sent the owl off again.

Blackstaff resumed his prosecution, " What exactly did Potter do?" he asked the witness.

"Like many computer users he transferred all of the mails he received from marketing organisations such as ourselves to a separate area within his computer without reading them. In this way, I am afraid, he may have missed many bargains and useful investment opportunities. However, as time went on, he claims to have become angry at the volume of such mails he was receiving, and finally he reacted by casting a spell on all those who had sent him mail."

Hermione took up the examination, "How many unsolicited emails had Mr. Potter received from your organisation?"  
"I am not sure."

"Could you tell me approximately how many?"  
"Well, I believe it was in the region of forty thousand."

"Forty thousand! If he had taken the trouble to read each and every one of them, he would have wasted seventy days reading dishonest and often criminal communications from your members. Is it any wonder he became angry?"

"He is allowed to become angry. He is not allowed to cast a spell on every one of our members."

The judge peered over the rail, "What kind of spell?"

"It varied, your honour. Some of our members offer investment advice to the public."

Hermione was remorseless, "And, what happened to these people?"

The gnome reddened, "They found that all of their wealth had been invested in the products they were promoting, and that they were unable to sell them for some months. Unfortunately the market disimproved during that time and many of them incurred substantial losses."

Another owl fluttered in, a large owl bearing a heavy deed wrapped in red tape. The judge inspected it and stamped a large seal on the bottom and sent the owl off.

Hermione resumed.  
"Meaning that they suffered the same kinds of losses that the public incur when they believe their claims about their rubbish investments?"  
"Please, Miss Grainger. You have no grounds for making such wild accusations."

"Sorry, My Lord."

She was losing it. Judge Gibbet was completely out of sympathy with Harry. The last resort was Plan B. She nodded to her clerk, who slipped out of the courtroom by a side door.

"What other form of spells did Mr. Potter allegedly cast?"

The gnome licked his lips, uneasy, "Well, there were the Viagra spells?"

"Viagra? That is some kind of waterfall, is it not?"

"I am afraid not, your honour, the waterfall is called Niagara. Viagra are a kind of tablets.."

He stood up on his chair and craned over the bench, whispering in the judge's ear. The judge nodded and he sat down.

"Do muggles not have access to Rigorfast spells?"

"I am afraid not, M'Lud."

"What did his spells do?"

Another owl fluttered in, and the judge opened the envelope. A collection of illustrations fell out. The judge picked one up rapidly turned red. He bundled them into his bin, and hissed at the owl which fled. Hermione met the eye of her clerk who was coming in and saw his faint nod.

The gnome was continuing.

"Well, all of the individuals offering discounted Viagra found that they were enjoying the benefits of the tablets without having to take them. Unfortunately, while the benefits of the tablets persist merely for a few hours, those of the spell have so far proved irreversible, with unfortunate consequences to the social and marital relations of the victims."

Another owl came in, dropped a poster on the judges desk and left without landing. Hermione was unable to see the full poster from where she stood, but it appeared to offer the judge the opportunity to increase certain of his dimensions. With a snarl of anger he tore it into shreds.

Blackstaff appeared unaffected.

"Were there other spells?"

"There was one which caused great distress. Some of the products on offer allow the customer to increase the size of parts of their bodies in ..er.. interesting ways. Potter's spell caused the same increase in the people offering this service, only in a grotesquely exaggerated manner. Some of us.. I mean some of them have had to resort to painful and expensive surgery before they could resume normal life."

The poisonous look he shot at the prisoner left the court in no doubt that he had himself suffered this sad fate.

Another owl fluttered onto the bench, overturned the inkwell, left a substantial buff coloured deposit on the judges sleeve, and dropped a small sack on the bench before fluttering off. The judge shook the bag open and watched a small pile of gleaming galleons fall onto his desk with some pleasure, but then she saw his face darken as he heard the tinny noise they made. He picked one up and it bent between his fingers. He looked at the attached leaflet, "Earn REAL gold galleons in your spare time," swore and flung the fakes to the floor.

Blackstaff waited until the judge had quietened down and resumed.

"So, to summarise, merely because he was irritated by receiving a modest number of commercial communications, the defendant, " and here he pointed at the hapless Harry looking furtive and guilty in his chains, "inflicted dreadful physical and commercial damage on a large number of innocent traders."

He turned to face the judge in triumph, then his jaw fell.

The judge was no longer paying him any attention. Instead he was half standing, gavel in hand, watching the biggest owl he had ever seen struggling to pull a bulging sack in through the owl vent. A catalogues, illustrated with mind bogglingly perverse objects, tumbled free, and a questionable plastic object fell a yard and hung there on it's electric cable, buzzing forlornly.

The judge drew back the gavel and flung. There was a squawk, a fluttering of feathers, and the bird was gone, the sack falling heavily to the floor. The bailiff ostentatiously pulled on a latex glove and dropped it into the bin.

The judge, breathing heavily, resumed his seat.

"Your witness."

Hermione stood up and straightened her robe.

"That will not be necessary. I think I have established the facts of the to my satisfaction."

He nodded to the bailiff, who announced, "The prisoner will rise."  
Harry stood up with a rattle of chain.

"The charge is that the defendant cast spells on marketing companies involved in sending unwanted messages. I find that he was merely acting reasonably in response to unendurable harassment and can in consequence be discharged without a stain on his character."

He looked at Harry's file, contained in seven bulky manila folders.

"Well, without any further stain on his character. I award costs against the plaintiffs and decree that any such businessmen as appear in this court henceforth will feel the full weight of the law. Now, if only someone could find a way to deal with unsolicited owls."

"Judge Gibbet?"

"Yes, Miss Grainger?"

"Perhaps trained falcons could be placed on public buildings to monitor traffic? Or we could create standard spells to return with the owls to sender. Based on Mr. Potter's ideas."

"Excellent ideas, Miss Grainger. Would you consider becoming a senior counsel? We should meet for lunch tomorrow. Hell, make it dinner tonight. The Lord Chancellor can wait."

She walked over to Harry, who was watching the two guards piling the chains he had been wearing into a wheelbarrow before wobbling off uncertainly.

"Well done, Hermione."  
"Thanks Harry, but you took a frightful risk. You have to realize that you cannot just lash out because someone offends you. Let me take you to dinner anyway. Eight o'clock?"  
"That would be fine."  
"Congratulations on a spectacular win to your first case. They were, I take it, your own owls?"  
Blackstaff was the soul of geniality.

"I had to borrow the big ones. Your colleagues seem to be taking it badly."

"Yes, they take the right to send junk mail to the long suffering public very seriously. They will cheer up when they realize that there are several layers of appeal remaining to enrich them. You too should prosper, with Mr. Potter to keep out of prison."  
"You may be right there. He just said he was off to check his email, but he said it in a very dark way."

The End


End file.
